


No Individual Stronger than the Collective

by mymindismyweapon



Series: The ties that bind you together [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Five and Vanya love each other, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Healing through togetherness, Hesitant Love, Isolation, More slow burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Doubt, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Tags May Change, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymindismyweapon/pseuds/mymindismyweapon
Summary: "As much as you must strive for individual greatness, and strive you must, for it won't come to you of its own accord, you must also remember that there is no individual stronger than the collective."This is a continuation of "He Came Back." I highly recommend reading that first before continuing to this work. :)
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves & Everyone, Vanya Hargreeves & The Hargreeves
Series: The ties that bind you together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607140
Comments: 159
Kudos: 280





	1. The Day After, Part 1

**The Day After**

As Five warped through time and space, he believed the image of Vanya he last glanced was the cause of his breath being taken, but it was simply the extreme change in environment. He jumped to sometime in April of 2019, not having a specific date in mind - but a specific date to avoid. And through the practice of his new ability with Vanya’s help, he was sure to include the exact place as well. 

There were still too many unknowns to jump to the same place he left, knowing the academy would be wrecked. The rubble could disrupt the space he intended to occupy and cause him to be buried. Unlike Klaus’s understanding of his ability, the debris would not enter his body like he was a ghost phasing into an area, but he would become solid like the material, repelling it from his space. Or in this case, the heavy cement and brick would outweigh his mass and crush him. That’s why it was so dangerous to spatially jump latitude-wise, often needing a good layout of a building before engaging in a mission. 

However, this safeguard was unneeded. He transported himself to the only place he had found to be mostly clear the first time, actually using the open area as his homebase, as it did not have towering buildings threatening to topple down on him. The expanse of the park spread before him, trees lining the perimeter of the scarce grass that filled it. The blades were long and rustled around his knees, regretfully taking in the spring sunlight. 

He blinked rapidly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden change from the dim lamps of the den to the shining natural light, uninhibited by clouds or ash choking the air. It was almost pleasant. But the immediate confusion chased away the warmth he may have received. Did something go wrong with his calculations? Did he place himself in the wrong place or time? Was he even in New York City anymore? 

He shaded his eyes as he surveyed the area. It did seem familiar, despite the sickly plant matter, as he spotted the cement fountain to the east he used to store water and landmark buildings surrounding the park. But, the suffocating smoke and smoldering earth was absent. It wasn’t right.

“What the hell?” He muttered, dropping his arm. _Where or when am I?_

He hiked his pack up higher on his back and trudged to the fountain. He set the bottom of the bag on the edge and slid out of the straps. There was no point in taking the whole thing if he was going to be walking around. He even removed a layer of clothing, knowing the warm sun would be enough as he explored. The Walkman offset the jacket as he laid it over the flat ledge. He almost considered bringing the tape player to keep it safe, but he knew he was being ridiculous, so he took a water bottle and pocketed Grace’s special protein bar instead and made his way to the entrance of the park. 

As he neared the buildings, he was beginning to realize what happened. Everything was just as destroyed and ruined as his first visit, but it was older. A blanket of dust settled on top of everything, like the books on the top shelf no one could reach. This was a _post_ -apocalyptic world. However, the plant matter that managed to overgrow a stray brick here and there, was still reminiscent of the catastrophe he witnessed. The vines and stems were shriveled and frail, falling away from the side of the building just from the slightest touch of his fingers. Everything was dry and choked of nutrients. The earth was trying to live and failing. 

As he walked, he contemplated his mistake. He jumped too far into the future. But how could that be if he used the exact same calculations from before? As he analyzed the numbers involved with his jump in his head, he had wandered near the Academy. 

He stopped short of the front gate, eyeing the woody entanglement around the rod iron. He briefly allowed himself the memory of pure relief when he returned and Vanya was the first living person he encountered. It was mostly blurry, his panic and stress clouded it like his chalky hand over incorrect equations. But her warm embrace lingered in the forefront of the experience. He missed it already. 

He straightened his back and shook his head. He needed to stay focused. As he turned to walk away from the ruins of his home, a stark white stick jutted up from a pile of bricks to the west, like an oddly placed weathervane. 

His plan was to go looking for the resting place of his siblings and find out if his theory about the glass eye was well-founded. He was almost positive that since he took the object with him, its material existed across every possible instance of time and it would only be residing in 2003. Though, there was the possibility of a new prosthetic eye being created in the timeline for it to play its role in the future. It was a speculation that was very necessary for him to resolve as part of his mission. 

But, the almost glaringly white branch peaked his attention too much to just walk away. At this point, he had all the time in the world to explore irregularities in the current environment. Anything could be a clue. 

As he cleared the stubborn vines that blocked his path and silently thanked Grace for the deep traction in the soles of his boots, he neared the sprig sprouting from the rock and dusting of crispy leaves. For a moment, his curiosity was satisfied because the curly leaves protruded from the sides, evidently producing another branch or offshoot, proving its identity. 

But, one step closer allowed a little more detail to be noticed. It wasn’t branching from its original source, but growing from the inside out, like it was breaking out of its shell. In fact, it really looked like that as he knelt to examine the strange plant. The white, outer layer was cracked and jagged. He had never seen anything like it. Though, botany was never a strong subject for him, he knew something wasn’t right. He reached for it and caressed the pale part with his fingers. It was smooth and brittle. He carefully unraveled the stem of the real plant from around and inside of it and then nearly dropped it in horror. 

It was a bone. He couldn’t see the bulbous ends that connected it to a counterpart because of the leaves obscuring it. Now that it was in his hand, he realized the damage. There was a fracture near one of the bases that must have tempted the little seedling to enter until it forced its way out the other side, through another, smaller crack. He held it carefully with his fingertips and recognized it as the radius or ulna of a person’s arm. 

He continued to stare at it wide-eyed until he finally processed what it meant. He dropped it, vaguely hearing its hollow cry as it tumbled down the rubble. He fell to his knees and began pulling aside pieces of cement, ignoring the destruction of more desperate seeds attempting to bring the world back to life. He pulled and heaved dusty bricks away, only encountering a few unmovable chunks of cement that were probably part of the foundation, before having to stop to catch his breath. He knew his fingernails were as chipped and bloody as they felt, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

He pushed his hair from his eyes with the back of his hand and realized he was shaking. _Damn it._

“Calm down.” He commanded, regretting his decision to leave the tape player. After the burning in his lungs from breathing so hard had calmed to a forced, steady respiration, he stood to continue his work. 

It was nearly sundown when he spotted another contrasting item, teasing him from under what might have been splintered wood. It was decayed enough that when he went to shove it aside, it crumbled like soil. He kicked at the remaining beam until he could stretch his arm into the gap it revealed. His fingers bumped painfully into the rusty iron rods that kept the cement together, until he encountered another surface. It was too smooth to get a grip on with his fingertips leaking blood, so he came from another angle, finally catching some ridges that gave him leverage to hook his knuckles under it and lift it out. 

It took some maneuvering and some more stabbing of nearby objects, but he finally rotated it out of the hole. It thumped against one more piece of iron before he clutched it with both hands, worried he would drop it. 

The empty eye holes stared back at him accusingly, as if it were angry with him for removing it from its final resting place. The jawbone looked to be long gone and a few teeth were missing from its upper mouth. It seemed to be in decent shape until his finger caught on a jagged edge. He didn’t notice the perfectly punched circle in the side, near the base. There were a series of hairline fissures blooming from around the spot. He thought he heard it creak as his grasp tightened. 

“It can’t be…” He whispered to it, glaring at the disconcerting evidence of a bullet wound. The skull itself was too small to be the remains of an adult. He was breathing fast again as he wildly glanced around him. Shadows were dimming the area quickly but he stopped himself from digging further into the wreckage, and made a more informed decision. 

He dropped the skull unceremoniously and clambered out of the dent he created in the Academy to frantically run in the direction he remembered wandering in after the shock of his realization the first time. As he sprinted and hurdled over debris, everything seemed exactly the same. Except, instead of being consumed by flames, everything was choked with aged desolation and proof that nothing could truly thrive in such a place after so long. How long from 2019, though, he didn’t know. 

He skidded to a stop in front of the metal box and yanked the handle. It was locked, but his raw panic eventually ripped it open with an ugly screech. Somehow the noise broke him from his trance and he froze. Would his theory be correct? Was that all he was good for? Theorizing, but never resolving anything? And in exchange, making things worse? 

He took a breath in and held it, thrusting his hand into the pile of papers before pulling one out. Still, he didn’t breathe as he looked passed the headline about some actress being shot and found the smaller print being held between the heading and “The New York Times” title: _New York, Sunday, April 10, 2005._


	2. The Day After, Part 2

**The Day After**

It was the dream again. Completely silent and empty. She was alone in that horrible room. Something felt different than the first time, though. Something about the air was just as suffocating as before… but, it was worse. Her screams were unheard by anyone, including herself, and they were contributing to the pressure of the room, as if the walls were slowly crushing her. She tried yelling louder, but was met with less air. Eventually, she choked as the oxygen was sucked from her lungs and her body convulsed with the effort of breathing. 

Vanya awoke to deep gasps burning her lungs and a headache that forced her eyes into a squint.  _ “Where am I?”  _ She thought, vaguely registering she was not in her bed. As she rolled to her side in an attempt to identify her surroundings, she found that she was on a floor. It was soft like a bed, but cold and smooth. She blinked a few more times and recognized that there were some flickering lights from above and the sides of the room. It almost reminded her of candles if they weren’t so blue and harsh. 

“What…” She croaked, her throat rough like she had really been screaming. She had no idea where she was. 

As she lifted her head to glance around with adjusting eyes, she noticed strange cones protruding from the walls. Everything was dark colored, like the light that came from the grates was immediately swallowed up by the matte hue of the entire space. In fact, everything seemed faint. All of her senses were muted in a way that made her feel weary. 

“ _ It’s like the dream.”  _ She thought frantically, finally processing the situation. She rolled to all fours in a shaky attempt to stand, her hands out to help her balance. She breathed deeply, trying to stay calm. 

_ “I have to stay calm or I’ll hurt someone,”  _ she reminded herself. Instead of repeating her most recent mantra in order to control her intense feelings, it opened a door that flooded her with dread. 

The pressure in her chest that she had been struggling with for months had been relieved…. But only because her family betrayed her. The ones she loved had  _ lied  _ to her.  _ Everything was a lie.  _

Even the tears that soaked her skin weren’t noticed until they flowed down her neck, the room absorbing the heat and moisture of them. A sob broke the silence, the sound of it barely touching her ears. 

The familiar sting of fear pricked her heart and spread like poison. She stumbled to the door settled in the wall and pressed her body into the oval window. 

“Help - Please let me out -” She tried yelling, but her muscles refused to strain themselves hard enough. The vibrations of her voice couldn’t even reach the glass window at the end of her nose. Her fists and palms knocked weakly at the steel trying to draw someone to her. 

She peered through the clouded barrier and saw mother in a bright colored skirt and red shoes. “Mom! Please, let me out!” She begged with renewed vigor at the sight of another person, bruising her knuckles as she tried to make as much noise as possible. Grace seemed to have moved some, but it was hard to tell which way she was facing.

"Please, Mom -" She cried, slapping her palms on the window, desperate to be with someone. Desperate not to be alone. "I'm scared -" She choked on her words and swallowed.

" _ She'll let me out. She wouldn't keep me in here."  _ She told herself in reassurance. And sure enough, she noticed the figure of Grace becoming nearer.

She backed away from the door, clasping her trembling hands in front of her. “ _ It’s okay. It’s okay.”  _ She told herself meagerly. She knew she wasn’t convincing herself, but she didn’t have the energy to think of anything else to help. 

To her body’s relief, the seal on the door was released. It was like she was resurfacing from a very deep dive into the ocean, water leaked out of her ears and the pressure of the water was lessened everywhere. She took in a quivering but almost comforting breath. The tears were cold against her cheeks and neck, causing her to shiver. 

As soon as the woman stepped up into the chamber she was confined in, Vanya ran into her arms. 

“M-Mom -” She sobbed into her surrogate mother’s chest, another shiver overcoming her as the chill of her floral blouse sank into her skin. Vanya was missing her blazer, and wherever they were was colder than she remembered the mansion being. 

“Oh, Vanya, dear. Don’t you worry, everything is going to be fine now.” She missed her mother’s confident, relaxed tone. She always sounded so sure of herself, and it brought ease to her stressed mind. However, as soon as she allowed some contentment into her heart, the sensation of being draped with a thick layer of cotton suffocated her again. 

She glanced around the robot’s middle and found the door to be shut again. 

“M-Mom? Can I please leave?” She asked, tensed for the answer. 

“Of course, dear. Right after you eat some food.” She responded lightly, as if they weren’t in a dark, mysterious room. Vanya stared up at her in disbelief, completely overlooking the plate in her hand. “It’s your favorite, grilled cheese.” She sounded so pleased.

“I have to eat in here? And then I can leave?” She confirmed, unsure if that’s what she really meant. What a strange request. 

The woman stroked her hair gently and smiled. “That’s exactly right! Growing girls need to eat!” 

She blinked several times, making sure she wasn’t dreaming or going crazy. “Okay…” she replied, taking the plate offered to her. Sure enough, an ordinary grilled cheese sandwich sat in the middle. She picked up one half and bit into the corner. The cheese was starting to harden in it already, the coolness of their environment taking its warmth. She scarfed down the whole first half, eager to leave but found her appetite to have left her for the next half. 

“I don’t think I want anymore.” She told Grace, feeling her stomach twist with nausea. It was probably her nerves. 

“That’s alright, honey.” She took the plate and reached for something in her pocket. “Since you have something in your tummy now, you can take your medicine!” 

Vanya glared at the machine’s precise hands as she unscrewed the lid on the orange bottle and fished a small white pill out. It lay in her palm, outstretched toward Vanya in offering.

She could only stare. 

She had begged her father to forgive her for not taking her medicine, assuming that was why they were coming at her with a syringe. But why would she apologize for something that wasn’t her fault? Why would she apologize for  _ his _ lies?

She shook her head, “I don’t want to.” She took a step away, worried Grace had another tranquilizer in her pocket, too. 

“But you need your medicine, dear. We don’t -”

“ _ I said,  _ I don’t want it.” She repeated a little harsher, the anger towards her father seeping into her veins heavily. 

“It will help you feel better -”

“No, it won’t. It will help  _ Father  _ feel better knowing that  _ I  _ can’t do anything or  _ feel  _ anything. He’s afraid of me.” Now it was making sense. The medicine numbed her emotions so she wouldn’t remember what he did to her. There were still little snippets of memory floating around in her head that she knew was important. She just needed to remember. Maybe the medicine blocked that stuff, too. 

“Reginald Hargreeves, your father, is a great man -” the robotic woman began to scold sweetly, wagging a pretty finger at her. Her voice filled Vanya’s ears and heart with rage. How could she think he was a “great man?”

“ _ No, he isn’t. _ He’s a terrible man who took away  _ my life! _ ” She yelled, a slight change in the pressure of her chest pushed her off balance and made her stumble. Grace even seemed to lose her footing. What just happened? 

She wasn’t given a chance to contemplate it before Grace’s lips thinned and she looked disappointed. 

“Alright. But you won’t be able to leave until you take your medicine.” She patted Vanya’s cheek before saying in finality, “We don’t want you getting hurt, Vanya.” 

Her ominous words rested strangely in her ears, waiting to be processed as Grace turned to leave. 

“Wait!” She called, as her mother stepped through the doorway. It let in a moment of solace, briefly distracting her senses, before she slammed into the closed door, and felt the grinding tremor of a wheel turning to lock it in place. 

“No!” She screamed, her previous terror heightening to a new level at the realization of the condition to end her suffering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this second part up so you can have an idea of where our love birds are after, "He Came Back." (I'm terrible at waiting, too) I wanted to post them together, but I have Five's part finished and couldn't wait to post it. And I honestly didn't think I would get Vanya's up so quick after, but we've had a lot of snow days this week... thank youuu, Midwest winters ;)
> 
> Let me know where you think this is all going! I have an endgame in mind but I like to think about everyone's ideas, too! As always, I love to hear from you either way :))


	3. The Week After, Part 1

**A week after**

_ “The world is counting on you. Good luck.” _

_ “Just get the job done and don’t mess up.” _

_ “There are people counting on you to come home, so don’t be stupid.” _

_ “Don’t let the apocalypse get you down! At least Dad isn’t there!” _

_ “We’ll see you soon. Just do your best.” _

_ “I’ll miss you, Five. Please come home soon.” _

The skulls Five excavated were arranged before him as if Reginald had called them to attention, and they were lined up, ready to do his bidding. Interesting that he didn’t find an adult man’s remains among the rest of his family. 

The last words of each of his siblings’ weren’t exactly encouraging in his current situation. Thanks to the very sturdy, seemingly armored, newspaper vending machine he found the most recently published  _ New York Times _ , he realized the disaster that ended the world happened fourteen years earlier than his current placement. This also meant that the apocalypse was only two years away from his original timeline in 2003. 

He didn’t know how long he stood staring at the newspaper gripped in his hands, completely lost in the calculations of his mind, but when he finally resurfaced from the torrent of numbers, he immediately vomited. He could still smell the acrid stench of his bile mixing with the saccharine hints of Grace’s waffles if he thought about it hard enough. It was nostalgic and sickening to think he brought something from that unassuming world into the aftermath it would become. He supposed there was a reason time traveling was unnatural and unaccomplished by ordinary humans. 

He had long passed his shivering, panicked state from the week before and migrated back into the vicinity of practical acceptance. There was no use in suffocating himself with hypothetical dread or getting lost in graphic images of his family his mind procured to lure him into insanity. 

“I’m not doing it again.” He promised, eyeing each glaring pit staring back at him. He didn’t know which cranium belonged to which family member, other than the obviously primate-structured skull that used to be Pogo, but he had already conditioned himself to think of them as nothing other than another group of unfortunate humans that were consumed by the destruction of the apocalypse. 

After all, he had a recording to prove their well-being. They were alive and well. There was no reason to allow himself to slip down that hole. 

~*~*~

Already, he forced himself into a daily schedule as if he was still at the mansion. He didn’t know if he should be thankful for the habitual structure he was expected to follow, or if the desire was a construct their father used to control them. Either way, Reginald wasn’t there to tell him what to do. Not even a bone to represent the man was anywhere to be found in this world either. 

Currently, he was in what he assumed was the remains of a pharmacy. There didn’t seem to be much that wasn’t reduced to ash or melted into a clump of plastic. However, from previous missions, he knew stores with narcotics and other sought after drugs had metal cabinets with just as many useful prescriptions. 

Sure enough, after climbing over shelves that had fallen over like dominoes and specifically overlooking more human-like figures reaching from beneath the burned wreckage, he managed to squirm through what was left of the door to the restricted area. 

As he entered, the light that filtered through the spotty roof and open windows was lost and could only peek in through cracks here and there. He pulled a flashlight from his belt and clicked it on. The cabinet he was searching for stood seemingly untouched in the corner so he moved toward it. He swept his flashlight across his path and froze. The dark shape of a person sat beneath the raised, metal counter top, their scorched limbs sprawled out in front of him as if in a dramatic act to deter him from the area. 

He learned quickly that the corpses he found inside of buildings that still had enough structure to protect the interior, were the type of body he had a hard time encountering. Skeletons were easier to look at and simply add to the subconscious count he had going in his head. But, these corpses were still eerily alive in a way. Like they could just get up, their tendons and joints still intact enough to continue on with their lives. 

Instead of shying away like every nerve in his body wanted him to do, he crouched so he was eye level with the black canvas of its face. Being part of the Umbrella Academy gave him the opportunity to get fairly comfortable with seeing death. Whether they were victims of a crime or the dangerous individuals they hunted down to prevent more unneeded bloodshed, he saw a variety of ways people found their demise. He wouldn’t let it start bothering him now when he had a job to do.

He examined the figure, determining the best sample to take, and settled on the hand. The easy snap of the brittle bone and crinkle of the dried, leathery skin, sent a shiver down his back as he tore a finger away. It was like ripping a piece of dry meat apart, the flesh was stringy and almost reduced to dust beneath the tough outer layer. 

He cleared his throat and unraveled a plastic bag from the pocket in his jacket to drop the extremity into and seal shut. The only part of jumping too far into the future he found to be beneficial, was the fact that everything was passed its stages of decay. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to collect this type of specimen on a cadaver in the midst of its decomposition. The smell alone would be enough to keep him from his task. 

He didn’t know how useful these collections were, but he needed to do something to move toward solving the bane of his existence. At least until he could travel back to 2005. 

He left the pharmacy with only a few usable prescriptions in case he ever found himself in a situation when he would need pain relievers. There wasn’t much to scavenge in this post-apocalyptic year, but he would spend most of his day scrounging around for anything he could use or eat and then gather samples where he ended up. It didn’t yield great results on most days, but what would he do otherwise? He didn’t have enough energy restored yet to even try using his power to travel through time or space.

He returned to his modest shelter of the tarp Grace sent with him, tented and low to the ground so the strong winds wouldn’t catch it and take it away. He hadn’t been lucky enough to come across any kind of fabric to serve as a backup yet, so he was very careful with the only piece he had. 

His pack sat just on the inside, helping the stakes and stones hold down the edges. He dumped the bucket he found earlier in the day of the items he amassed throughout his search and organized them by category. 

The most prized jems of the day sat in the middle, winking back at him in encouragement. After placing the medication, practical tools, and random knick knacks he could use for more emergency type situations later, he took the tape player from his chest pocket and settled in front of his makeshift fire pit. 

After starting a fire and glaring at the fading light that glowed behind some suspicious looking clouds, he replaced the batteries in the Walkman with the lithium ones he happened to come across in the frozen section of a grocery store. The coolers must have blocked most of the mysterious, fiery blast and spared five lonely batteries. 

The ziploc bag of batteries hidden at the bottom of his pack, courtesy of Klaus and Diego’s stealing habits, were already dwindling. During his mental break, he burned through two sets of precious batteries, listening to his siblings’ ramblings and Vanya’s crackly violin playing. He listened to her short message at the end more times than he wanted to admit. 

But now, with the obvious sense that he would be spending more time here, he needed to conserve the necessities; food, water, batteries. 

“Save the world, come home.” He muttered, sliding the battery cover back into place and returned it to the safety of his pocket. He resolved he wouldn’t listen to it again unless there was something threatening his sanity. 

_ “I’m sorry, Vanya. It’s going to be longer than a month.”  _ He thought regretfully and frowned as the darkness of night suffocated the light of his fire. He stared up at the blank space of the night sky, just whispers of stars here and there. He sighed at the thought of another sleepless night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Sorry for the short chapter and long wait time. It's going to be like this for awhile. Work is busybusybusy with testing students and other bullshit. Also, short chapters for Five because there's not a whole lot going on there yet. 
> 
> Kudos and comments keep me writing. Sending vibes of friendship and love to you all on the eve of Valentine's day. <3 <3 <3


	4. The Week After, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little more eventful... I hope you enjoy it!

A wrinkled piece of paper shuffled between her anxious fingers. It had been crumpled and smoothed over so many times it had become as soft as cotton. She breathed in through her nose, the action causing her chin to wobble and chest to tighten. It was getting hard to breathe again. 

Over and over, she suffered the same panic attack. If she took in air through her mouth too much it would trigger it, so she forced it to come into her nose as Grace instructed. It only caused her to feel like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen and the room was closing in again, like her dream. Mother was right outside the fortified door if it happened again, and she had no doubt in her mind that it would. 

_ "Dad won't let us near you. We're doing our best. Please forgive us." _

Besides being faded and smeared, the letters were straight and neat, not a sign of hesitancy or uncertainty. Allison was sure about sending the note... but why? Was guilt motivating her siblings to make contact with her? Or was it honest determination? Assurance of their reliability? The words they wrote weren’t enough for her to know. So, she teetered between all the possibilities and suffered from settling on any of them.

The soles of her shoes pressed into the soft flooring as she nervously paced from one wall of protruding cones to the other. It took her six and a half steps to clear the distance and eight to thirteen full rounds of breathing, depending on the current thought in her head. She bit at the peeling skin on her lower lip, the worrying she did to it caused it to become chapped, and tasted the slightest hint of blood. 

She was surprised she could taste it. Somehow, the gray walls absorbed any attempt of her perceiving anything. It wasn’t just stealing the sounds of her breathing, but also the light that tried to reach her eyes, the taste and smell of the bitter mold spreading in the corridor outside her prison, and even the dampness that soaked into the walls couldn’t cling to her skin. She knew it was all there, but her body had no way of feeling it. She felt nothing and  _ everything. _

Because she was void of those abilities, she had plenty of room for all of the emotions she was confronted with to overwhelm her. She was a giant soup pot, filled to the brim with varying responses to her situation. They stewed and bubbled until they seeped into each other and she didn’t know one feeling from another. It was sickening and bitter. She didn’t know how she felt toward Grace or Pogo or her siblings. She didn’t know how she felt toward herself. Was she extraordinary now? She certainly wasn’t ordinary. Nothing about this was ordinary. 

Due to her confinement and the effect it had on her, she was learning and hypothesizing about her power. She knew sound was part of her ability, but she didn’t know how. She remembered the way the pounding rain reverberated and seeped into her skin to migrate to her smoldering chest. Like, her ears weren’t the only part of her that listened and perceived sound. She could even recall moments when her senses preferred certain noises; Like Five’s breathing, or pouring rain, or the metronome. It was such an odd concept to think that it was something specific to her. She  _ knew  _ it all along. But she was  _ too  _ ordinary to realize that she could have been special, like her family. 

She dug her fingernails into her scalp, postponing her quest between walls to stop just in front of the oval window. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to separate her thoughts from her emotions for the millionth time. Everything got so mixed up that she was in a constant state of confusion. A tear dripped from her nose to plop to the floor. Or she assumed it reached the floor. She only knew it left because of the slight change in weight from when it developed on the end of her nose, to when it left. She didn’t even know when she cried anymore. 

She stared down at the tiny dark spot it left by her feet and gasped as a sob shook her and she lowered herself to the floor as if all of her energy had drained from her. Episodes like this overwhelmed her at times, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact source causing such a miserable reaction. She could only assume it was the dilemma with her siblings as that was at the forefront of her thoughts at the moment. 

_ “They will take care of you, Vanya. I know they will.”  _

She held onto the words Five earnestly declared. She trusted Five, so she needed to trust them. But how could she? After what they did?

As much as the last week had been filled with doubt and anger and fear, the only hope she had was the note they secretly sent her. It brought her out of the dark corners of her memories and the oppressive panic of taking her medication and gave her a reason to push the distrust she felt for her siblings to the back - back behind Reginald's lies and manipulation. He was the reason for the hell she was in.  _ He was the reason for everything.  _

Again, she didn’t understand the shift in her mood, but her withdrawal ended suddenly and she relieved the skin under her hair from her jagged, chewed up nails, and pulled them through her oily, tangled strands. She took a great, shaky breath as her hair fell limply around her face. She would need another shower soon. 

Grace was the only one she had been in contact with since her world came crashing down and Vanya didn’t think she would have any idea of how long she had been confined if not for her. Even if the clean clothes made her feel like a human again, the regular meals were left untouched, and the textbooks were only used as a mode of transportation for the note she received from her siblings. She refused to let Grace make this place feel like her new normal. There was nothing normal about being locked in a chamber designed specifically to obstruct her powers and only allowed freedom if she took medicine that removed her ability to use her powers. There was nothing normal about any of this. 

And it was even further from normal when she was given the opportunity to shower. The first time Grace suggested this freedom, Vanya refused only because it was made very clear that any attempt at escaping or using her powers would force Grace to sedate her again. She wouldn’t give in to their scare tactics when she knew her father was behind it. Not when he did it because he was afraid of her. 

Unfortunately, her defiance only lasted as long as she could stand living in her own filth. Her hair had become greasy with constantly grabbing at it during her worst moments and her body had grown grimy from the stress-induced sweat she was almost always drowning in. So, she relented and used the shower. She relished in the scorching heat of the water burning her skin and suffocating her nostrils with the unfiltered noises of the world outside her cage tugging at her eardrums. It was almost worth the pressure of knowing Grace stood on the other side of the curtain, brandishing a syringe, humming that same soothing tune as if she was only folding clothes or drying dishes - Not waiting for her daughter to make a wrong move. 

Vanya reluctantly returned to the vault with a teary plea for her freedom. It fell on ears that were influenced by her father’s commands, so she was turned down and returned to her isolation.

But, being outside of the room also gave her the opportunity to secretly assess her location. She knew there couldn’t possibly be any chambers like this in the mansion, but the more she recalled the way the stone was structured, the more she believed she was at least in a place built by the same person who built the Academy. And it was very clear by the darkness and musty conditions, that she was underground. There was not a hint of natural light to be seen. Even glancing down the corridor that she assumed led out of the cold burrow, didn’t give away a glimmer of light. It was just a blank space that sucked away any hope she had of escaping. 

_ “Five, please come home soon.”  _ She thought desperately, the faint whisper of tears returning to soak her cheeks. 

She sat for a long time, allowing the loss of Five to creep up from under the rug she swept it under when Reginald uncovered his deception. The grief from their separation was always a part of her mourning during the last week, it just never occurred to her until now how much weight it held. 

She hugged herself, pinching the skin on the back of her arms as she gripped as hard as she could. Maybe she would evaporate into these walls like everything else if she cried enough. 

The pounding of blood rushed through the veins in her ears as she tried to take a full breath. Her sorrow had enough pressure that her ears popped and an odd static crackled in them. 

The noise continued and then, "Number Seven, you will end your insolence or continue your solitude." 

Her head snapped up as the familiar contempt of her father's voice stung her ears painfully. "What -?" She breathed, glancing frantically around her, scooting across the floor until her back was pressed against the flat wall beneath the cones. As she scrambled to cover at least one exposed area of her body, her muscles froze. Every single part of her body was almost in a state of cramping with how violently they clenched. 

Finally, she spotted him. Reginald stood on the other side of the window, his sharp eyes pinning her to the wall like a mounted butterfly in a collection. Her eyes threatened to pop from her lids as she stared back in terror. 

He spoke into a microphone with a flat base, “You do not have the ability to self-regulate your emotions with the state you are in. You require medication to manage the intensity of your feelings.” She couldn’t see him well enough, but she knew his mustache twitched with scorn as he continued, “Your actions have caused your current position and there is no one more responsible than you.”

Again, something in her turned over like flipping a page in a book, and the fear changed into rage. He was only doing this because he was scared of her. He didn’t have any control and that’s what he needed to feel powerful. She wouldn’t let him have it. 

These thoughts filled her chest with hot air as she breathed in. She stood from her crouch and walked slowly to the window, allowing her muscles to loosen and relax. She wouldn’t let him scare her. 

“ _ You _ are responsible.  _ You _ did this to me.” She snapped through clenched teeth. Her vision shook as she glared into his cold, grey eyes. She found satisfaction at seeing his left arm in a sling. She hurt him.  _ Good.  _

“Now that you are aware of your powers, you are accountable for what they do. Your abilities are too destructive to be neglected and so willingly ignored. You have to understand -” 

“I don’t have to do  _ anything. _ This is your fault!” She shouted, feeling the familiar pressure in her core. She grabbed at all of the negative feelings she had been struggling to make sense of all week and gathered them together in a heaping ball of ugly hate. It simmered with anticipation. She wanted it gone. She wanted to feel the relief of it leaving in a burst of retribution with her father on the receiving end. 

She recognized the same white glow reflecting in the glass, obscuring his stern face. She clenched her fists as she pushed at the negative energy burning her from the inside, but it didn’t move. It flexed and writhed, creating such pain in her that she growled in frustration, the tears returning to sting her eyes. 

“Your power requires more energy than your bitterness, Number Seven.” His voice scratched at her ears and seemed to linger there. It wasn’t enough, though. The walls soaked up the strength it could’ve given her, and left her with a meager portion that only allowed a weak breach in the blockade. Enough to push her, sending her stumbling back from the door as if she willingly recoiled from the man on the other side. Again, she felt the weight of her tears leaving her face to moisten the front of her jumper.

“You will remain in your confinement until you can make a reasonable decision.” He announced in finality, before the hissing of the mic clicked into silence.

She stared down at the base of the door, discouragement heavily sitting on her shoulders to contribute to the sickly profusion of feelings suffocating her insides. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter for me to write. It kind of sets up how everything else is going to go down in the rest of this story, so it took a lot of thinking and planning. I hope it didn't disappoint anyone! 
> 
> Also, I apologize if you have been waiting for me to post! As I said in the last chapter, work is very overwhelming right now with master's classes on top of that, so I'm doing my best to manage my time and actually work on this. I appreciate everyone who has commented and left kudos! It's very encouraging and does wonders for my confidence :))
> 
> Let me know how you think this chapter defines the rest of the story! Five is up next <3


	5. The Month After, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hope you don't enjoy this... our poor sweet baby.

**The Month After**

A strong gust of wind attempted to topple him over, the immense bag slung over his shoulders kept him planted to the ground, but didn’t help keep his balance. He stumbled to regain a solid stance and shielded his eyes from the scorching beams of sunlight. 

Living in what the Earth had become wasn’t exactly delightful. The weather was unpredictable and extreme, the cursed wind not helping its treatment on him. He was thankful for the broken, but towering buildings he was surrounded by in the cityscape he resided in, because without them, the Earth would have succeeded in blowing him off the planet ages ago. It was like it didn’t want him there to save it. It just wanted to die.

He tightened the cloth he tied over his chapped mouth and nose, and adjusted the clunky goggles he found in an old sports goods store. Only parts of the rubber sealing had melted and let blowing dirt through, but he remedied that by stuffing those areas with cloth everytime he wore them. It wasn’t the best solution, but his options were limited. Especially after a month in such a desolate, rotten place, he was almost certain that he had collected everything of use within a ten mile radius. If the items he came across weren’t damaged from the impact of the apocalypse, they were too old or exposed to the intensity of the planet’s weather patterns for them to be safe. He honestly wished that the human population had been ended by sickness or zombified monsters. Maybe then he would at least have animals to hunt, or undead, blood-thirsty creatures to keep him company. 

He knew this would be difficult. He was prepared to endure this isolation for a month. But circumstances had changed and he was to remain in his hell for an unforeseeable amount of time. 

The current year he was in was useless and beyond frustrating. Even the test kits he used to determine dangerous levels of radiation in the water or gas levels in the air didn’t yield results. He concluded that any worthwhile results would be long gone after 14 years and the valid evidence occupied 2005. But the only way to collect it would be for him to jump back in time. The one task he was incapable of doing in a reliable way. He had done it once before, but it was a fluke. He had no idea how he did it. And it was what scared him the most. 

It wasn’t even the human-like shadows lurking in every corner only to remind him of his complete isolation, or the soft whisper of his siblings talking to each other in between the buildings where the wind whistled. It was the daunting task of using his power in a way he didn’t know how. He hated that his power scared him. But he didn’t give himself a choice. 

"I'm not coming back until I can fix the future for us." He reminded himself, his words being carried away in another flurry of wind, the sound not even given the chance to be heard by his ears. Vanya’s clear, hazel eyes pleaded with him from behind his eyelids. He twitched his head away from the peculiar noise of iron rubbing against wood, its pitch exactly the same as if Vanya sighed. 

He clenched his teeth against the distraction and readied his equations. The notebook from Grace had the same string of numbers scratched into at least four pages to check its integrity and precision. This strand of evolved math was etched as if from stone into his mind. He felt confident in its success, unable to find any fault after his attempts at breaking its validity. So, he began. 

First, the planes of space. He chose the public park as his current placement to make it easier for him to focus less on the place and more on the time, since that seemed to be where his errors occurred. The pulse of his power rippled around him, the stamina for this attempt already diminishing. 

“ _ Come on.”  _ He growled, bringing the next layer of his power into the equation. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the sudden light change nearly blinded him. They were both there. Space  _ and  _ time. Just like Vanya told him. But the vibrations from his fists fizzled until only a slight static crept along his arm hairs under his sleeves. 

As he grunted with the effort of keeping his power initiated, all of his muscles tensed in desperation, it finally left him like  _ it  _ was tired of  _ him.  _ He collapsed to the hard ground, allowing the pack to guide him onto his side so it wouldn’t crush him. 

“God damn it!” He shouted, immediately regretting the punch he planted in the ground, bringing up a puff of dry dirt to blow into his face. He choked as the bandana slipped past his chin to drape around his neck uselessly. He violently ripped his arms from the straps that held him in place and sat up to clear his lungs of the suffocating dust. He coughed until his throat was raw and his eyes leaked in frustration. 

He weakly removed the goggles and rested his aching head on his knees. For the first time since the first week, he allowed himself to express his exasperation through tears. He had fought them valiantly up to this point, refusing to let them deter him from his mission. But he couldn’t help it. He failed again. 

“God damn it.” He choked again, wanting to cringe from the weakness in his own voice. Tendrils of crisp grass scraped at the thick fabric of his clothes, a blade sneaking passed the cuff of his jacket to tickle the back of his hand. He glanced at the light brush, exposing his wet cheeks to the thirsty air. His tears dried to his cheeks and then rewetted as the touch urged a memory to creep to the front of his mind. 

_ “Five, you can do it! I know you can. In my entire life, I have never seen you not reach a goal!”  _

_ “Not this time. Not when it really matters. I was stupid and immature before. Everything I did was to be better than everyone else. And now when it actually matters, I can’t do it. Everything depends on me going to the future and finding something to help stop it, but if I even manage to do that, I can’t get back to do anything about it!” _

_ “We’ll just keep trying.” _

He sniffed and laced his cracked and splitting knuckles together, squeezing tightly.  _ “I have to keep trying,”  _ he thought. Despite the shakiness in his limbs, he stood from the ground. He swore he could feel Vanya’s hands under his elbow as he steadied himself and began refamiliarizing himself with the routine he dismissed when he was certain he was leaving this world. 

“ _ Save the world, come home,”  _ he recited to himself as he knelt to unpack his dwindling supplies.  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of this one. As I said before, there's not a lot happening with Five (this is more of a transition chapter for future ones) and this is all I have time to type up unfortunately. The next chapter is where the fun starts with Vanya and I've been thinking about writing it for awhile, so I'm hoping I don't psych myself out and take too long. 
> 
> I know it's a hard wait because we all want to see Five and Vanya together again, but they need to experience some pain without each other first. Or maybe some healing, too. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Thank you for all the support throughout the creation of this story. I'll do my best to keep you all satisfied. 
> 
> Also, I'm sending vibes of good health and safety in your community. <3


	6. The Month After, Part 2

**The Month After**

“Number Seven has made the decision to take responsibility for her powers.” Reginald Hargreeves announced to his perfectly obedient team of superheroes as they stood in a rigid line in front of Vanya. She stood at her father’s side as if she were a puppet, ready to be manipulated as he wished. 

She studied each of her siblings through the protection of her bangs, perfectly depicting the image of a submissive Vanya. The effort she put into this facade started a week ago when she determined that she would prove to her father that she had the control he was so certain she lacked. She would prove to him that he had been wrong all along. 

“Number Seven has proposed that she will obediently,” he paused to glance in her direction sternly, “take her medicine regularly.” 

She watched as a ripple of uncertainty vibrated through her siblings, and their carefully blank expressions faltered. It gave her some sense of relief to know they cared about her enough to react to this decision. Klaus and Diego especially expressed concern to this piece of information. She couldn’t look at Ben’s surely distressed face. It was hard enough to watch the rest of her siblings’ carefully controlled expressions break in disbelief.

Diego’s dark eyebrows drew together as he blurted in response, “Why would you do that?” She knew he was disgusted with the lack of resistance against her father, but it just made her seem more convincing. 

“I need to take responsibility for the way I acted. I should never have stopped taking my medicine so carelessly.” She spoke meekly, and earned an approving nod from her father. “ _ It’s working,”  _ she thought confidently. 

In fact, all of her siblings looked as disappointed as Diego, and she was glad. They would understand soon. 

Sir Reginald continued as if there was never an interruption, “Her dosage will be halved,” everyone seemed to exhale with relief, “for research purposes. With her assistance, we can completely eliminate her power or at least thoroughly stifle its ability to manifest.” 

Everyone stood slack-jawed; even Luther’s stony expression melted and he stared wide-eyed, his blue eyes searching hers like she was insane. Little did they know, this was the only rationale she could use to satisfy Reginald and sway him into believing her proposal was genuine. 

In an attempt to persuade her siblings as well, knowing Klaus’s shaking fists would become an issue eventually, she pleaded, “I don’t want to hurt anyone again,” speaking truthfully made her words more impactful, as she switched gears and lied, “I don’t like the person I become when I use my powers. I want to be ordinary.” She choked on the words and felt tears in her eyes. Those words were like razors as they sliced themselves out of her mouth. That lie was almost too much to bear. She could feel the half pill she took this morning fighting to stifle her sorrow.

But a piece of her heart, as blackened and dead as it was, flexed and bled more profusely. _“I've decided you're the only one I can trust… because you’ll listen. Something about being ordinary makes you a good person.”_ Was she still a good person? Was she betraying his trust?

Allison shook her head slightly as a tear escaped down her cheek, her eyes confused. Vanya swallowed the urge to take back her words. They would only need to be frustrated with her for a while longer. 

Again, their adoptive father grumbled in confirmation of her motives and readjusted his monocle as if reading a strict regimen from a training manual, “As a safeguard, please do not engage Number Seven in activity that might arouse her emotionally as her powers are directly linked to them. That includes negative  _ and _ positive responses, so avoid any unnecessary contact during her trial which will last for an unknown amount of time.” They all began to wilt as if this information was too heavy and they struggled to remain in their stiff formation. Even the tears that lingered in her eyelashes were dense. Though, she found the sensation of their presence more rewarding to her than anything else.

She stared pointedly at the floor as Sir Reginald disclosed the final piece of his delusional plan, “During this time, everyone will also be accountable for her success. After all, we can accomplish anything when we accept responsibility together.” He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, reminiscent of the day he persecuted her for his mistakes and declared, “You will all be in possession of a syringe to sedate Number Seven in the event that her current efforts are threatened and her control is lost.” 

A collective gasp with hints of angry grumbles filled the lull in his presentation. Again, she shyly peered out to observe their reactions, selfishly using their individual judgements to determine their loyalty to her. She still struggled to find understanding in the fact that besides the lonely note they sent in a textbook, as far as she knew, they didn’t make any attempt to save her from her prison. 

However, one particular person that was most likely to support her, next to Five of course, stood the furthest from her and she was thankful because she had been avoiding his heavy gaze the most out of everyone. Ben’s soft sigh seemed the loudest among the protests and her pounding heartbeat.

Reginald continued louder, “I expect your resolve to aid in her anticipated weakness is firm, as Number Seven’s power is far more destructive than what was witnessed and will result in more serious consequence than before.” His final remark nudged the guilt for her actions over to make room for the pride he instilled.  _ I’m not ordinary.  _

~*~*~

She was dismissed into Grace’s possession soon after the consequence of her freedom was revealed to her family. The midday light shined behind her siblings as she glanced at them once more before losing sight of them as she rounded the banister at the top of the staircase. They looked grave; At least she wanted to believe they did. 

As if there was never an entire month lapse in her daily routine, Grace directed her to her private classroom and began teaching literature. She did her best to stay focused, as this was part of her daily routine and one of the many things she would daydream and cry about during her confinement. As silly as it was, she found that having structure was a contributing factor when it came to her mental state. She was given distraction every second of her day so she couldn’t sit around and torture herself with the memories that hurt and confused her the most, like she did in the deprivation room. As much as she knew her father was the reason she relied on the construct, she was still relieved for it. 

The time with Grace passed and it was time for supper. The beef stroganoff and green beans were the only things she allowed herself to look at, the heavy stares of her siblings were obvious, but she reminded herself she could explain soon. Away from the eyes and ears of a satisfied Reginald. She had to be careful with the way she interacted with her family in front of him. 

As they were released to their wing of the house and chaperoned by Grace during their bedtime preparations, which was a new part of their routine, Vanya fought the urge to break down and cry. The ability to use the bathroom without asking for permission and brush her teeth or wash her face by herself, behind a closed door was a privilege she looked forward to the most when she made her decision. Her hands shook with the effort to hold her tears at bay as she spread toothpaste along her toothbrush, the door remaining shut behind her and the sound of Grace’s unassuming tune absent from the space. 

The idea of freedom was enough to motivate her into concocting this plan. It wasn’t about being with her family, though being in the presence of other people was a benefit in her endeavor, gaining control was her ultimate goal. The Monocle thought he was the one in control, but she wouldn’t let that happen again. She thought the only time she ever had full reign of her life was when she was sharing her feelings with Five. So, she resolved she would take it back and defy the people who tried to hold her back. She would prove to them that she was stronger than what they gave her credit for. 

The only issue with her plan was that she needed her siblings' help. She had to accept that she couldn’t succeed on her own. What was it her manipulative father said? " _ We can accomplish anything when we accept responsibility together _ ." She had to admit, some of his arrogant mantras actually made sense. 

_ I have to trust them if I'm going to win against him.  _

She took a breath in before opening the bathroom door and hesitantly made eye contact with Allison. Diego had Grace occupied with one of his Umbrella Academy uniforms down the hallway at his bedroom. 

Allison stood at Klaus’s doorway, chatting with him. They looked very serious. And even more as they spotted her in their proximity. 

She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and glanced back at Grace, watching the progression of her verdict on the suit in her calculated fingers. She strode forward quickly as Allison followed her gaze and then turned back in time to express her concern.

Allison’s curls hovered around her face as she hissed, “Vanya, what are you thinking -?” 

“We can’t talk here,” she interrupted, still not meeting her sister’s eyes, monitoring their time limit, “I’ll explain everything in my room at 11.” 

Her heart pounded with the thrill of commanding the Umbrella Academy to meet so confidently. Like she was someone important that deserved to be listened to; Someone like them. 

Klaus took her wrist and finally brought her attention to them. His eyes were pleading, “You can’t be serious about what Dad said -” 

She quickly looked back down the hallway and saw that Grace was nodding and patting Diego’s hair in finality. There wasn’t much time left, so she pulled her wrist free of his hold and whispered again, panic now replacing the boldness.

“We can talk later. Please, we can’t get caught.” She cursed herself as she turned from their frowns and swiftly went to her room, shutting the door behind her. Her heart continued to pound, but not from her earlier thrill. 

She covered her ears, pressing her palms into them until it hurt. 

“You’re keeping control.” She told herself, not much louder than a whisper. She laid on her bed now, staring up at the ceiling. A cluster of thorny looking cracks spread through the plaster, leading out until they met the opposite wall. She turned onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. 

~*~*~

Klaus and Ben slipped into her room first. She smiled weakly and avoided their eyes, unsure how to act around them. The darkness of the room surrounded them like a heavy cloak. Only the beam from her flashlight broke the space between them.

The original awkwardness of how to interact with her siblings had been relieved during their last visit to Griddy’s, but now it seemed the anxiety had doubled in weight since her power was uncovered. Perhaps their own guilt had played into its intensity because Klaus broke the silence by stepping forward and crushing her in a hug. 

“We’re sorry, Vanya.” He choked in her shoulder. He was hunched over her, his lanky body taller than her short stature. He was shuddering like a young tree in the wind. 

His contact immediately sent tears overflowing from her eyes. His affection was the first non-threatening touch from someone she had experienced for over a month. And it overwhelmed her. 

Ben was at her elbow, gently gripping her wrist. She stifled a sob as she met his wet gaze and then lost her composure again, burying her face in Klaus’s neck. His pulse thumped strongly against her forehead, its pressure filling her ears and chest. 

She gasped and pushed Klaus away, knocking Ben’s hand from her in the sudden movement. The window behind her rattled as she caught her breath, holding her hand up in caution. 

“I’m sorry. I have to be careful.” She whispered hoarsely, still unable to meet their surely disappointed looks. 

Someone’s hand returned to her wrist to squeeze in reassurance. She opened her eyes to see Klaus, Ben, Diego, and Allison staring back at her. They were worried. “ _ Or are they scared?” _ A sinister voice echoed from the darkness of her mind. 

She assumed Luther would not be joining them, and the tightness of her chest was relieved by a fraction. She took a moment to turn away to wipe at her cheeks that heated with embarrassment. 

Ben still firmly held the arm she had the flashlight in and said what they were all thinking, “You didn’t really agree to what Dad said, did you?”

Her tongue was thick and dry, as she suddenly sensed all of their eyes on her. Very intently waiting. The last time this happened, she was speaking on Five’s behalf. Not her own. It was like presenting to a room full of strangers. 

Finally, she dropped her eyes and smiled shakily, “No. But I had to agree to it in order to leave -” she paused, unsure what to call her prison and settled on, “-the deprivation room.” 

“S-so you aren’t t-t-trying to get rid of your p-power?” Diego clarified through his stutters. Again, he was one sibling she had the hardest time deciphering. He was very similar to Five in his tendency to express his frustration or concern through angry looks or loud voices. But, somehow his question eased the nervous tremble and reminded her of her objective.

She pushed her shoulders back and began her proposal, “No. I want to train it. I don’t want to use Dad’s medicine to control it anymore.” She paused to watch their concern soften into the shadows of their face, “I’ll have to keep taking half of my pills to make him think that I’m doing what he wants, but I can still feel my power - ,” she touched her chest and looked away, feeling self conscious again. It was so strange to talk out loud about the fact that she  _ had a power, “ _ \- even with the medicine. I think I even used it before when I was on a whole pill.” She glanced at Allison but saw no recognition to her reference. She was almost positive that she used it the night she got in the fight with her sister. She couldn’t recall how she knew, but the emotions from that encounter were unusually intense. There was really no way to know for sure, though.

She continued after a brief moment of silence, her insecurity pushing her to ramble, “If I can show him that I can control my power on just half a pill, then he’ll understand how wrong he was.” She met their gazes with determination, her previous motivations returning to her. “He’ll see that I can be useful… That I can  _ help. _ ” 

She knew what she was implying and it was the one thing she wanted and  _ needed  _ in her life. It was the very core of all the hurt in her life; to be a part of the Umbrella Academy. Everything revolved around that part of her, and now that she had the tools to  _ be someone,  _ to  _ be extraordinary, _ she couldn’t just give up that opportunity. 

After mulling this entire plan over and over in her head as she sat in a state of complete seclusion, something her father worked to force her into even before she was enlightened to her potential, she really believed that her family would understand her need. That they would embrace her efforts. But, the clear stiffness of their faces told her differently. 

She blinked at them in confusion, the conviction coursing through her veins thinned into uncertainty. 

Allison exchanged looks with her brothers and walked up to take her hand. “Vanya, that’s a great plan. We would love to help you -”

“ - but, what?” Vanya asked weakly, feeling tears come to her eyes again. It was as she thought. She couldn’t trust them anymore than Reginald. 

Allison could sense her rising panic, so she put both hands on her shoulders and smiled with encouragement, “Vanya, we aren’t saying we won’t help you.” She laughed a little, trying and failing to lighten the situation as her smile got thinner, “It’s just a lot to take in right now. We don’t want to lose you again, so I think -” 

Ben chimed in more seriously, “ - we need to be careful. Like you said.” He stepped to the side so he could meet her eyes more clearly, his fingers still firmly around her wrist to solidify his request, “We need to take our time with a plan.” She knew what he was really saying. None of them had to say it out loud. They thought she was dangerous. 

She looked out to Klaus who fidgeted nervously with his sleeve but nodded in agreement. Diego’s eyes were hidden by the darkness of the room, but she felt his uneasy gaze. Allison’s tense smile was still glued to her face as she searched her sister’s eyes for understanding. She almost wished Luther were here to finish the disappointment filling her chest. It only needed a few more drops to drown her as before when she found out they knew about her power before she did. 

She blinked the tears away and matched Allison’s pathetic attempt at smiling. She nodded with consent and whispered, “Whatever you think is best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay but I think we can all agree that life is tough right now. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter with a little more movement in the plot. I agonized over this chapter for over a month now, so I hope it didn't disappoint and it wasn't super predictable. Our poor Vanya. She has a lot ahead of her, but the chapters will continue in a similar fashion when it comes to intervals of time. This is mostly for me to keep things straight with how everything lines up. Let me know what you think is going to happen with Vanya and the sibs? Did this chapter change what you originally thought was going to happen??
> 
> Side note: I released the second (and final chapter) to my work called, "More." I said I didn't have time to do another chapter, but I used it as a break from this work! I hope you enjoy it. <3


	7. Two Months After, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! :)

Two Months Later

It was one of those dreams he woke up from wishing was true but wishing he didn’t have to begin with. It was only meant to bring him joy for a few measly moments and then thrust him back into the bitter truth of his reality. 

It filtered his last night in 2002, replaying only the good things. The moments of gut-warming laughter from his family, the sweet tang of strawberries from a waffle supreme that struck his tongue with pleasure, and Vanya’s fingers shyly tracing his cheek as he kissed her. It left him feeling warm and content, like a person feels when they know they’re in a safe place. 

Unfortunately, there was no such thing in the world he lived in and when he woke up, he could only stare into his dirty, cracked palm and grasp at that feeling for as long as he could. 

He laid there until the late morning sun rose high enough that the shadows outside of his makeshift shelter had shifted until they were almost invisible as the light bore directly down from the sky. He had been allowing himself a few hours of sleep in the morning, right after first light, and right after the exhausting darkness of a sleepless night. He had already accepted the fact that sleeping at night wasn’t the best practice for his mental state and he would need to use a few hours of his daylight to satisfy himself. 

It was soon after his failed attempt to jump to 2005 that his insomnia had peaked to a dangerous level and hallucinations similar to his first jump through time, began to resurface and torment him. He supposed it was about time. He had now been living in the aftermath of the apocalypse for two months and the deterioration of his mind began almost as soon as he arrived the first time. Though, he couldn’t take all the credit. The fact that he was more prepared with supplies, even as it dwindled almost to inexistence, and the recording Vanya put together for him, gave him the tools he needed to endure his new world both physically and mentally. 

However, the recording from his siblings wasn’t enough to drown out the insanity. It distorted and manipulated their voices until he began to respond and argue with himself. That’s when he drew the line, set aside his routine, and slept during the relief of daytime. Daytime was only for six hours though. As well as nighttime. 

Without the moon, he learned many things changed. Days were no longer twenty-four hours long, but barely twelve. Once he realized that his days were different and it wasn’t something else in nature affecting his days, it changed everything. Technically, he was in the year 2033 if he applied the adjustment in the length of days from when the change happened in 2005. Though, that didn’t matter very much to him. It just meant that the date was different, but the amount of time that passed was the same. It was the fact that the amount of days in a year changed. Because then that would change how he calculated his travel time. It had to be precise. It had to be  _ absolute.  _

He sat up and winced at the ache in his muscles. He reached out to take the journal in a hand but found he needed two, to account for the weakness in his fingers. A frustrated sigh hissed through his teeth as he struggled to hold the pen tight enough to even draw one tiny line. 

“61 days for me, 30 and a half for you.” He whispered to the squiggly tally mark he made among the many on the inside cover. This time he sighed with relief. He was glad he made this discovery because it gave him some solace knowing that Vanya didn’t have to be without him as long as he was without her. She didn’t have to be as disappointed when he didn’t return after a month. 

But with his most recent attempt failing even worse than the first time, it would be another month before he could recover enough energy. Maybe even longer with the amount of retaliation his power unleashed on his body for miscalculating. The energy didn’t release itself correctly and instead remained trapped in his muscles, ripping through them, trying to locate an outlet. He eventually passed out from the exertion of holding it in him with nowhere to go with it, and came to enough to drag himself into his tent. That was the first time he slept through the night. 

He hadn’t received such backlash from his power since he first used it when he was four and a half years old. And that wasn’t even his fault. He had to rely on Pogo and his father to assist him with the equations necessary to jump through space because he didn’t have enough experience checking them for faulty numbers. Turns out they were the ones who didn’t have enough experience with his equations. He was bed ridden for weeks. He never allowed anyone to assist or tamper with his work again.

But now, after much thought and self-doubt, he believed he could really use an extra layer of screening from Pogo. He was the only one in the house that even remotely understood how it needed to work, and he believed his father was the reason it failed when he was younger. Either he needed Pogo to check his numbers or Vanya to talk him through the process. She always knew the right questions to ask. 

He heaved himself into a crouch, grabbing the last half of a peanut butter and marshmallow bar. He could use some carbohydrates. He knew he needed more rest to recuperate, but he also knew that laying around too much wasn’t good for his mental state. So he stiffly walked through the buildings, noting the position of the shadows and mentally reminding himself that he had about three hours until night came again. He was too weak to carry his pack for making camp in case he didn’t make it back in time, so he trudged along a path that seemed to have become more worn down and obvious with his frequent visits. 

As he walked out to the main street, the street that led to The Academy, he took a left leading away from the memory of his family. Away from the mysterious skulls. 

The stiff stems of the plants laid flat as he followed the path, passing ruined building after ruined building. He carefully stepped over a few dirty pillars, not wanting to add to his body’s ailments with bruised knees and skinned palms. Especially with how shaky he felt, he needed to be careful with the slightest amount of movement. If he got to the point of needing medical attention he couldn’t provide with the supplies Grace sent with him, everything was doomed. 

“Don’t be an idiot _. _ ” He told himself.

“There’s people counting on you to come home.” Allison scolded, the contempt in her voice yanked at his ear as if her fingers were gripping it. 

He paused and resisted the urge to glance around. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his ear, ignoring the chill that rolled up his back. 

He continued on quietly. Sometimes talking to himself was what triggered the other voices. Since he talked to himself, he wanted someone to talk back, right? That’s what the voices seemed to believe. 

Finally he shuffled through the opening of a building, again stepping carefully over the frames of the windows that used to make up the rotating doors of the entrance. Shelves and racks made up most of the interior, piles of dirty, rotten clothes fanned out before him as if a strong gust of wind blew them from their hangers. It was a shame this building seemed to burn as well as get flooded at some point in its history.

He already picked through it all, only finding a few usable pieces of cloth. Nothing he could wear, but enough workable pieces to stitch together like a Frankenstein monster’s cape. It did its job though, shading areas he found enough reason to dig for further supplies. 

There was an old broken escalator leading up to the second floor and another leading down to the basement. The large gap in the broken stairs leading up cautioned him from risking a peek. He could clearly see the lack of structure in the ceiling which led him to believe the floor up there didn’t fare much better. 

So when he first came here, he was easily directed to explore the basement instead. And for that he was thankful. 

He limped down the escalator, gripping the rubbery railing for stability. He glanced around, as if expecting an alive person would be there waiting, then continued on his footpath noticing the debris had been pushed aside by now, clearly leading him to his destination. 

The chair he had been spending hours at a time sitting in came into view. He forced himself forward, the tightness in his chest from when he heard Allison talking to him, loosened significantly as he plopped himself down onto the flattened, patterned fabric of the seat. 

“You look horrible.” She scolded, bringing a smile to his lips. 

“Good to see you too, Dolores.” He grinned up at her, the frilly blue blouse hung loosely on her alabaster shoulders. It was something he found that he thought she would like. He thought it suited her. 

“Well, are you going to tell me where you’ve been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I tried jumping with the new calculations and it didn’t go well.” 

“Are you hurt?” She asked urgently. She was always so caring.

“I’m alright. Just a little sore. My powers didn’t like the change.”

She hummed in thought and then, “What do you think went wrong?”

Wasn’t that just the question to answer and solve all of his problems? “I don’t know. I calculated the change in hours like I told you about, but it still isn’t right.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get it.” It was quiet for a moment as he struggled to respond. He was a bit disappointed that was all she had to say.

As he opened his mouth to say something reassuring, she asked, “How do you know the hours are right?” 

He glanced up and curiously met her pale, blank stare, “I have been recording the hours in the day based on when the sun rises and when it sets and then when it rises again. Since I can’t track midnight without the moon, I can’t go off of true midnight and true noon.” 

“How have you been keeping track of the hours? Can a sundial do that?” 

He nodded in agreement with her inquiry and added, “I can use a sundial, but it’s more accurate to just use my watch.” He held his hand up and checked the time; it was 11:00 pm. It didn’t correspond with his time and place, but lined up with 2002. 

“Didn’t Ben explain that wasn’t the best way to track a day?” She sounded thoughtful, not accusing. And she was right. When he first began his studies jumping through time, he learned that he had to understand how everything was calculated in their system of standard time. Things had changed and adapted based on societal needs, so time was not as reliable as it was made out to be. In fact, it wasn’t accurate to say there were 24 hours in a day. It was actually 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds. With this information, he was capable of creating and formatting his equations so there was no margin of error when he jumped. 

During his studies, Ben became interested in the history of the subject and dug up some information he never would have thought would be useful. For example, he found out that for thousands of years up to the present, society considered the definition of a day as a complete cycle of sunlight and darkness. It was actually very faulty, but it was the most natural way for people to determine a day. It was called a solar day. There was another part to Ben’s enthusiastic tirade, but he couldn’t remember. At the time, he didn’t find it useful because he really just needed numbers. Not the procedure on getting the numbers. 

“You’re right. He said that tracking days by using the sun and moon wasn’t as accurate. People just did it because it was logical and the most obvious…” He paused and stared into the metal stand holding Dolores up. There was something else important. It was right on the edge of his mind.

“Would it make that much of a difference?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper over the pounding in his ears. 

He stood up suddenly and smiled.  _ That was it.  _ “It  _ does  _ make a difference. Without the moon, I’m not able to track the exact length of a day. I can’t determine true midnight without it.” Then the rest of Ben’s rant session resurfaced: “I need to track a  _ stellar  _ day. There’s a lot less variability when it comes to stars.” 

He gazed up at Dolores, smiling hard enough that he could feel all of his teeth exposed. “You’re a genius.” He declared and leaned forward to kiss her chilly outstretched hand. As soon as he did it, his stomach clenched and he nearly wretched. 

“I’m so proud of you, Five.” Her voice was too soft. Too familiar. 

“I need to go get ready for tonight. Good-bye, Dolores.” His words were rushed and nearly choked him. His throat was tight. 

He hurriedly stumbled up the stairs, positive that Dolores saw his struggle, and clumsily ran until he was outside. The wind cooled the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No.” He choked, falling to his knees. “Not again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been MIA. The state of the world has been affecting my life in many different ways as I'm sure it is for everyone else's. There just isn't enough time in the day for everything I want to do and unfortunately, this story had to be put on the back burner. Thank you for those of you who have been commenting still! It motivates me so much! I may not have been writing, but I've been thinking and this chapter was the result of A LOT of thinking lol.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed all the weird math and random information about time... it took a lot of research!! Actually, I enjoyed learning about some of this stuff. Believe me, I didn't know this naturally ;) Also, can I just say, I want to give our poor little Five a hug? So bad. What did you think of introducing Dolores? Do you think it fits okay? Talk to me! It brings me life. 
> 
> Thank you all! I hope you and your families are safe and at peace. <3


	8. Two Months After, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter... thank you for waiting!

Vanya breathed in the stale air clinging to her skin and exhaled shakily. It had been a month since she revealed her plan to her siblings and a month since they had not pursued that plan. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on her side. 

Each time Allison or Klaus or Ben pulled her out of view from the adults in the house the familiar excitement of hope sparked her sad, dark heart. And then each time, it was everything  _ but _ the prospect of proving her father wrong and training her newly discovered power. The disappointment of their unwillingness to support her goals soured any attempt they made to be with her. The Umbrella Academy members were explicitly told not to spend any time with their sister in the case that they stimulate her emotions. Yet, they asked her to sneak to their rooms for book talks with Ben, or braiding sessions with Allison and Klaus. If they were willing to risk that time with her, there was no reason they couldn’t use that to help her with her powers. 

She hastily wiped another tear from her cheek and squeezed her fingers into fists until her knuckles turned white. She sat cross-legged on the padded flooring, trying to push the feelings of betrayal and bitterness down beneath her ribs so she could start her day. She found that some mornings were easier than others. Those mornings were usually after a night of camaraderie with a sibling. As disheartening as it was to end a night without mentioning her power again, the effort they put into spending that time with her gave her a sickening mix of emotions. She was so glad for their company but so let down at the same time. It was the happiness that clung desperately to her jagged heart that made taking on the next day better. 

She thought the goose pimples along her arms would cause a shiver from the chilly underground area, but again, this chamber did odd things to her senses. It confused them and repressed them to the point of leaving only the inside feelings completely raw and unprotected.

It was her idea to begin her days locked in the deprivation room so she could sort out her feelings and file them away. She knew it wasn’t working, but it seemed to please her father. So she continued the facade. 

She unfolded herself from the floor and stood for a moment in one last attempt at self-control, then went to the small window and knocked. For some reason, the short wait after signaling Grace was the most stressful part of being in this room. She worried that her father would change his mind and he would never let her out again.

So of course, the wait seemed longer than the few seconds it actually was and she was already having a hard time breathing when the door creaked open.

“Thanks, Mom -” She started as she nervously held the door open so she could step through, but cut herself off noticing that it wasn’t her surrogate mother, “Oh - Diego.” She paused to stare at him and greeted, “Hi.”

Diego stood at the edge of the door, as far from her as he could be with his hand still on the outer handle. Vanya had not stepped down from the slightly elevated flooring between the chamber and the main hall, a bit unsure about seeing one of her siblings in a place she had never seen them. 

He shifted from one foot to the other, his academy dress shoes scuffling on the stone floor. 

“Why did you agree to g-go back in th-th-there?” He asked accusingly, glancing into the drab room behind her. 

She blinked a few times, not expecting Diego to talk so directly to her without other people around. She glanced behind herself, following his gaze, and watched as the harsh lights flickered. She could hear the electric buzzing now that she was exposed to the real world again. Strange that she didn’t notice it before. 

She turned back to him and shrugged weakly, “I use it to calm myself down, I guess. Sometimes there’s too much to handle out here.” 

Diego glared at the floor in front of her, still not meeting her eyes. His voice was dark when he spoke again, “You’re not d-doing it for him, are y-you?”

Her siblings knew that she was just deceiving their father, but without their involvement in the plan, she didn’t know how to train it herself. Which meant, she never used it. And the only thing she could do was appease her father in his research. She didn’t want to take more of her medicine and completely stifle her feelings and abilities. All she could do at the moment was control herself. 

“No.” She lied. It left a gross feeling in her stomach. 

“Good.” He replied. He continued to analyze the floor, and readjusted his position by the door. He cleared his throat and held his hand out to her. Clasped in his fingers, there was a thin, hardcover book with one of those cheap paper jackets with the author’s face printed on the back.

“Here.” He urged, turning his face away. As she stepped down to reach for it, she noticed how red his ears were. 

She brought it closer to her face to examine the title, “The Relaxation Response,” and recognized the yellowing pages. 

“Mom used it to help my s-stutter, so it can probably help your f-feelings or w-w-whatever.” His dark complexion became even darker with embarrassment as he visibly swallowed and gestured aggressively in her direction, “And you won’t have to stay here.” 

She blinked at him, taking a moment to process his words and thoughtfulness. She didn’t think she had ever talked to Diego for so long, nonetheless about anything sensitive like his stutter. 

He glared at her again, finally making eye contact and opened his mouth to speak again, before she cut him off, “Thanks, Diego.” She took a moment to consider if that was enough to show her appreciation and decided to add, “It means a lot.” 

His mouth was still part way open from when he was going to speak before, so when he nodded quickly, he snapped it shut and backed away like he was ready to take off running. Which he did, right after he mumbled, “Umm, I’ve gotta go.”

“Bye…” she whispered as she watched him sprint down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in her ears. She looked down at the book again and realized this was the book she read when she thought her medicine was part of a violent past. When she was convinced that she needed a calming technique to avoid hurting anyone. That was so long ago.

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly as she walked quietly down the hallway.

~*~*~

The day went by quickly. Her lessons were a blur as she used them to distract from the immense weight of confusion muddling her thoughts. 

“That’s it for today?” She asked Grace, watching the robot stack and tidy the shelves in her private classroom. 

She smiled brightly down at Vanya and cooed, “You’re a brilliant girl, Vanya! You finished everything for today with plenty of time to relax.” 

Vanya frowned and asked, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else for me to do?”

“Well, your father does want to speak with you about your progress, if you want to go do that before starting your leisure time.” Grace’s head was cocked, emphasizing the wideness of her grin. Vanya internally sighed and then nodded with understanding. 

As she made her way down the hall towards The Monocle’s office, she noticed Luther walking toward her, coming from the direction she was headed. 

Whenever a moment arose for her to interact with her siblings, she did her best to take it. Even before Five left, she did her best to make some kind of contact with them. So when she saw their Number One and realized they would be crossing paths, she readied her mouth to greet him. Sometimes, if she thought too hard or had too much time to think about the words, she would stumble over them and completely embarrass herself.

Even if he was the one sibling in the house that didn’t know about her scheme against their father, and would have turned her in without a thought, the look of disbelief on his face from when Sir Reginald revealed the nature of her return, kept her believing that he would help her if she needed it. He was their protective leader after all. 

“Hi, Luther.” She greeted, when they were a few yards away, politely giving him time to respond before moving past her. 

Though, instead of smiling kindly like he normally would, his face tightened and he walked by her without a word. She also noticed him hastily shoving something in his pocket, as if he didn’t want her to see. 

She stopped in the hallway to look back at him in case he had a delayed reply. He didn’t. And he didn’t look back at her. She could admit that her relationship with Luther wasn’t anything like the others’. It was a polite obligation since they were family. But he always offered her a smile at the least. 

She watched him turn the corner out of view. She frowned again before continuing on her path. 

As she stood in front of the deeply engraved, dramatic frame of her father’s office door, she breathed through her nose and out of her mouth a few times before knocking. 

“Enter!” Her father barked from the other side. 

She turned the matching ornate doorknob, and stepped through the threshold closing the door behind her. Reginald’s nicely combed hair was in plain view as he continued to look down and add more to the notes in front of him. 

She quickly took a seat in front of the desk, the antique chair creaking beneath her weight. She knew that the amount of time waiting for him to acknowledge her presence could range between a few seconds and an hour. She honestly welcomed a longer wait time to prepare herself to answer the questions he drilled her with. Unfortunately, she was not graced with the time she needed and he began almost as soon as she sat.

“How are your emotional responses today, Number Seven?” This question was similar to if Grace had asked: “How are you today?” But it wasn’t the same, casual check-up with her Father and she knew what he wanted to hear.

“A little difficult to get under control but the -” she choked on the word she knew her father preferred, “- v-vault helped me suppress them.” 

He grunted as he scribbled in his notebook and continued, “Have you noticed a change in your hearing?” He glanced up, gesturing with his hand as he gave examples, “Magnified sounds from a specific source, vibrations becoming more prominent, hearing loss…” He scrutinized her from behind the desk, the glare on his monocle obscured his left eye. 

“I think that I can hear voices clearer from farther away, but nothing more than that.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. She just didn’t tell him everything she noticed.

She didn’t want to reveal that all types of emotion caused her hearing to magnify and focus on a monotonous noise. It happened at night when she was left awake, drowning in her anger or sadness toward her family’s lack of understanding for what she needed from them and then the wind outside her window would shake the mansion’s foundation. She wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else, eventually scaring herself enough that she would need to ask Grace to supervise a visit to the chamber. 

It would even happen when Klaus told a joke that made her laugh. The power wasn’t quite as aggressive during those times but she did notice Allison’s posters flutter or a few things float a few inches from where they were sitting. They weren’t chaotic, but weightless, like the pressure in her chest. Her siblings never mentioned that it was happening, but that would always end with her excusing herself from their proximity anyway, reminding herself that Reginald  _ did _ give them all tranquilizers in case she lost control again.

The man across from her stared for a moment as if waiting for her to reveal more before jotting down another sentence. “Have you practiced the violin as of late?” He asked without looking up.

She clenched her jaw. This was a new question, and a bit misleading. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“No, sir. Not since you forbade me from playing.” Her response was more revealing of her feelings than she had wanted it to be. 

He squinted down his nose at her, probably catching on to the resentment she held against him for doing that. 

“Number Seven, you know playing an instrument will require more research and data before it will be allowed. Your power could greatly intensify the danger of your abilities with the use of the violin.” His scolding barely picked at her anxiety as it normally would and she simply nodded, not having a response prepared that wouldn’t end with her in the deprivation chamber. She did her best to ignore the buzz of a fly frantically tapping against the upper, semi-circle window pane in the room.

His lips were pursed and he was clearly disapproving of her attitude but he continued his list of questions: “Do you believe your medicine has been satisfactory?

“Yes.”

“Do you think your medication needs to be increased to aid in the suppression of your powers?

“No.”

“You said earlier that you struggled to control your feelings during your morning deprivation session. Would medicine alleviate this issue?”

She cursed at herself. She knew she shouldn’t have said that, but she also knew she needed to show that she needed help to be convincing. 

“I believe the vault has been helpful to control my feelings with the support of the medicine during the day. As long as I continue my morning session, I shouldn’t have any other issues.” 

He waited again and followed up with, “Let me know if that belief changes.” Then, continued to scribble. 

She suppressed a sigh. She didn’t convince him. She’ll have to think of something else to prove she wouldn’t need more medicine. 

Before she could properly prepare another lie, her father put the pen aside, snapped the red cover of his notebook shut, and adjusted his posture. His eyes bore into her as he stated, “Beginning tomorrow, you dose will be doubled and further precautions will be taken to ensure you abilities are well sedated -” 

Her voice shook, “But -”

“- Number Seven. Remember that the purpose of this trial is to eliminate your power for the safety of yourself and this household. The observations and anecdotes we are collecting are proving that our current efforts are not sufficient! We must stay vigilant.” His words were curt and final. “That will be all.” 

He stood from his large arm chair and stalked out of the room, leaving Vanya there like she was part of a business arrangement and she was the collateral payment. Not even a second glance. 

She pressed her right ear into her shoulder to stifle the irritation building from the frantic taps of the fly. 

~*~*~

As she returned to the children’s wing of the mansion, there was movement echoing in the floorboards. Her siblings must have earned some free time as well. 

Most of the doors were open, signifying the absences of her siblings from them. Two doors were shut. She passed the first door in trepidation and readied her hand to knock at the next one. The hushed voices inside gave her pause though. 

“You know we can’t do that. It isn’t fair to her.” 

“It isn’t fair to us either! We’re already in trouble as it is.”

“Who cares? It’s Dad’s fault we can’t do anything.”

It was quiet for a long moment and she considered leaving before someone spoke again:

“I don’t think we have a choice. It’s better for all of us if we just go back to the way things were.” 

She turned on her heel and strided to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her heart thudded loudly enough to fill her ears. She sat on her mattress knocking the book Diego gave her off the edge until it thumped. The sudden noise disrupted the sound of her heartbeat enough for her to catch her breath. 

There was no doubt that her siblings were talking about her. And there was no doubt she would not be spending time with them anymore. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat and kneeled on the floor, reaching between the foot of her bed and the dresser. She grabbed the corner of the book and dragged it out. With it, a sock and a red piece of clothing caught on the corners freeing them from the dark crevice as well. 

The sock was to be expected but the lumpy cloth was unrecognizable until she untangled it. The light pull of the stitches on her fingers was familiar and she immediately gripped it harder. Five’s scarf. 

She didn’t know what to do for a moment, only staring and thinking of his stubborn frown. She brought it closer until it brushed her chin, inviting the scent of his hair gel to invade her nose. She sobbed loud enough to startle herself. She threw it back into the corner like it was suddenly made of thorns. She fell back on her bottom scooting away from the only connection to Five she had left. 

The tears in her eyes didn’t stop flowing. Neither did the wind rattling the window. A shaky sob broke from her throat again and she choked trying to swallow it. She thought of the long, thin outline of Luther’s pocket and the fact that he was just down the hallway. She clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut in desperation. 

_ “You don’t need his help.”  _ Five’s disdain for their father and confidence in her vibrated the cells in her brain. “ _ He was making you believe that he was helping you.”  _

“He isn’t helping me.” She told herself as the pressure in her chest deflated and she dropped her hands from the sides of her head. She steadied herself with a few well-timed breaths, listening to the distant murmurs of her family. “No one is helping me.”

She wiped at her face with her sleeve and moved to the bed again. She took Diego’s book and tucked it between her bed and nightstand with some used tissues, not thinking twice about it. 

“I can be successful on my own.” She told herself quietly. The hem of her skirt was caught between her fingers as she rubbed at it hard enough to create a slightly growing heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. Holy moly. The fandom has found its spark again! After watching the newest season I was thinking our ship was sunk and no one wanted to save it... boy was I wrong! The ship has come back with a vengeance and hope remains. Huzzah!
> 
> However, I feel weirder about writing this story after watching the new season and realizing that cannon Vanya is not really in line with this Vanya when it comes to sexual orientation. I still want to believe that Fiveya will prevail but I don't want cannon Vanya to be forced into it if that's not what is meant for her. We'll just say this story is from a very distant universe with very different versions of our lovelies. ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reviving my fics with comments and enthusiasm! It keeps me moving forward during a very worrisome time (midwest storms taking out my internet and power for three days during the finals week of completing my masters degree, in-person teaching with elementary students, general havoc, etc.) that most people are still managing and surviving in as well. 
> 
> Let me know what you think is ahead of our dear Vanya! What did you think of the interactions she had this chapter? Five is up next!


	9. Three Months After, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This chapter is pretty graphic. I'll summarize at the end if it's too much for you to read.

  
  


Five was hunkered down on the sidewalk in front of his home. The wind pushed at him hard enough that he had to turn his face away to get a full breath in. It didn’t help that his chest was already tight. 

He pressed his palm against the headphone, magnifying the sound of Ben's voice. 

_ “Remember what you said, Five. Dad thinks he knows what’s best for us. Don’t let him get to you. Do what’s best for you.”  _

“I don’t have a choice. This is the only way.” He told the wind, his words being ripped from his lips unceremoniously. The skulls of his family rested before him, nestled among rocks and fragments of cement so they couldn’t be blown away. He counted again.  _ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.  _ No doubt, the seventh was Pogo. But the six others… Did he come across the remains of another six teenagers found in his destroyed home? Or was he staring at his greatest nightmare? 

In his darkest moments, his mind wandered to their existence in this current timeline, analyzing the truth, but never confronting their empty stares. He knew it would push him over the edge. But he also knew that’s what he needed. 

_ “The human mind and body work wonders under extreme pressure… return to the future and allow it to aid in your jump back here.”  _ His father’s words throbbed in his head.

But he couldn’t jump home yet, could he? He couldn’t leave until he secured the future for his family. For Vanya and himself to live in together. 

The same desperation as his first jump to the future was seeping through the walls he worked so hard to secure. Slowly, but surely they were becoming less and less effective. He imagined Grace’s bread dough swelling as the yeast inside of it became more active with the exposure of heat. Now, instead of trying to cool the trauma rising in his body, he fed the fire and encouraged it. He needed it to jump properly. 

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, nearly drowning out the sound of Vanya’s violin. He stared at the two smallest skulls and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t know which was Ben and which was her. One of them took a bullet to the head and one probably died from being crushed under their father’s over-excessive mansion. Either way, one was definitely her. 

“ _ Where was I?!”  _

He shook his head, the tears beginning to fill his vision again. “You weren’t supposed to be  _ here _ .” 

He had to find out what changed so he could save her.  _ She wasn’t supposed to be with them. She was supposed to hide somewhere safe. Somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find her. _

The ache in his muscles from sitting on uneven ground and general fatigue from living in the post-apocalypse, gave him even more reason to fall deeper in the hellish hole he dug for himself. 

He heaved a pained sigh, welcoming the stuttering of it in his chest. This was it. This was what suffocated his body when he jumped home. His nerve endings vibrated with it; The memory of his family. 

Vanya whispered in his ear,  _ “I’ll miss you, Five. Please come home soon.”  _

He nodded in response, gingerly pressed the tall rubbery button to stop the tape and wrapped the headphones until it could be safely tucked into his breast pocket. 

He stood, relieving his legs of the sharp stones beneath him, then stooped to sling his backpack over his shoulders. It wasn’t necessarily lighter than its original weight. He replaced all of the MRE’s and peanut butter and marshmallow bars with the pathetic supplies he scoured the rough remains of the Earth to find. The feeling of being well-prepared and confident because of Grace’s supplies, was nonexistent at this point. Lucky for him, it just contributed to the hopelessness and fuel he needed to travel through time. 

He buckled the front straps over his chest to secure its safe travel, and peered once more at his family. It was easier for Five to remember them dead than alive. At this point, he felt that he spent more time with them in his dreams than he had in their current timeline. And in his dreams, they weren’t alive. Nor would they be where he was going. 

He squeezed his eyes shut until the outlines of their bright white skulls disappeared from his eyelids and a blue halo filtered through. He drove his fingernails into his palms. The pain in his hands fled to the muscles beneath his skin as the energy from his powers stretched and pulled at him. 

His teeth clamped down as he pushed against his power’s resistance of letting him leave 2019. All of his muscles groaned in protest at his efforts but he wouldn’t let up. He had to leave. He had to go back to 2005. His most recently adjusted and star-aligned equations fell away from his conscience like it never even existed. 

“You’re a  _ bitch. _ ” He snarled, blue and white sparks flashed behind his eyes like they would explode. The same pain from his last attempt was building in his bones. But he couldn’t give up again. 

He took in short breaths, too worried to relax a single muscle in case it gave his power the opportunity to endure him longer. But he was already losing against it. 

_ “I know you’ll come home.”  _ Her voice soothed the irritation into despair.

He yelled with the last of his oxygen, pushing through the barrier between the old scarred world and the freshly burned one. He shouldered his way through like he was in a training with Luther, shoving passed his immovable bulk. Until, of course, Luther stepped aside and allowed him to go toppling forward. 

Five’s knees and palms caught his fall as the heat of energy rippling around him dissipated and he choked. 

The air was thick and familiar. He gagged for more than one reason but managed to keep the last of an MRE in his stomach. He pushed his goggles up and away from his face and unbuckled himself from the overbearing pack, freeing him from more restriction.

He stared down at the ground below him. His hands hurt from the impact of falling on the rocks he had been sitting on moments ago. He shifted his left hand and found his blood smeared along the pointy edge of a rock. Orange light flickered over his fingers creating a shadow over the spot. The wetness glistened and seemed almost black. 

His elbows wobbled beneath his weight. He hyper focused on the stinging in his palms, refusing to recognize the condition of his surroundings. Especially the fact that he was steps away from the worst part of this world. He did what he needed to do. He was successful. But he wasn’t ready to face his new reality.  _ Again.  _

Eventually, the stench of death and the cinders of burning wood punctured his bubble of denial. Somehow it clogged up his brain and blocked his nervous system. Before, he felt all of his aches and pains. Now, there was nothing.

He could still smell and taste the hot, bitter air but when he sat back and really looked at the scene in front of him, it was like a dream. He was seeing it, but he wasn’t fully experiencing it. He stumbled to the side trying to push himself to his feet. 

He trudged up to the skeleton of the Umbrella Academy, barely heaved his feet over the rod iron blocking his way and began the same task he performed in 2019. He dug. 

His fingers were slippery and struggled to keep a grip on some of the remnants he pulled and dragged to the side. There were even moments when the bricks or shards of wood burned his numb fingers. It was only noticeable because of the smoke puffing out from the object and the heat registering. It didn’t hurt, though. He knew he should be hurting. 

When he finally reached the face of someone he knew, he paused only long enough to give his memory a moment to acknowledge that it was Klaus, and then continued with his duty. He worked around his brother and found that he was vaguely surprised that it wasn’t Ben he found nearest, but Luther, then Diego. All three of the boys clearly had blunt force trauma but not enough to be the cause of their death. 

Allison emerged from the smoking heap next. He didn’t try turning her over to confirm his assumption. Her legs were grossly twisted beneath a wooden beam, his impaired mind couldn’t even begin to wonder how to move, so he followed the path he learned the first time. 

It took some extra time but he eventually found Ben. Even in his passive state, he couldn’t look at this brother for too long. Five wasn’t entirely sure it was even him until he spotted the boy’s uniform beneath the overwhelming amount of red soaking him. 

The exhaustion waiting for an opportunity to rest, poked at him after uncovering five of his family members. But he couldn’t stop yet. That sickening desperation was beginning to return with each discovery and thoughts of his next ones. 

His arms shook with the effort of pushing another chunk of wood out of his way that used to be part of the mantle in the den. He held it above his head staring down at the scene below him. She took his breath away again, the dense wood shifting to the side and crashing into his shoulder on its way to the broken linoleum of the mansion. The force of the hit knocked him to his knees. 

He wanted to reach up and massage the sharp throb in his shoulder but couldn’t find the energy or even the capacity to care enough to check his injury. Instead, Vanya stared back at him, completely snuffed of light. He shivered.

She was different. Different like the others because she was older. But there was more to the way her body laid and her face remained blank. 

_ It’s because she’s dead.  _

Five faintly detected Pogo’s lifeless form nearby as well but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the girl in front of him. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” He choked. The solitary echo of his voice jostled the cells in his body, shocking them out of their hibernation and setting them on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Five jumped back to 2005 and found his family in various states of gory death. He is officially the most traumatized little bean you will ever meet. :(
> 
> This was a rough chapter to write, but completely necessary. I had to think very, very far into the future (pretty much the end) of this story to set things up the way I wanted. Do you guys have ideas for where this is going? Let me know in the comments! 
> 
> Which, as a sidenote, HOLY GUACA-FREAKING-MOLY YOU GUYS. What an overwhelming amount of comments I have received since the latest season came out! I cried almost everyday reading all of the kind words of encouragement you all have left me. What an amazing group of people I have stumbled upon in my life. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart. 💕💕💕


	10. Three Months After, Part II-A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty dark chapter for our dear Vanya. 
> 
> As a warning, there are thoughts of drug misuse. I'm sorry if that makes anyone uncomfortable.

Vanya’s thumb worried against the crevices in the scroll of her violin. Her other hand gripped the waist of it tightly enough for the hollow creak it caused to creep up to her ear. 

With her eyes squeezed shut, the tears came as a persistent flow and her cheeks burned with their added heat. It took every muscle in her body to suppress the sob forcing itself against the inside of her chest, a violent shake overcoming her. 

Allison’s curled lip and accusing words stabbed holes in her crumbling fortitude. 

“ _ Thanks a lot.”  _

Vanya was standing at the opening of her door, planning to cross the hall for the bathroom before going to bed, when Reginald stomped down the hallway with Allison and Luther in tow. As they passed her doorway she quickly sensed that they just got caught doing something that made their dad very, very angry. She wasn’t even comfortable observing his deep frown for very long before she dropped her eyes, too scared to meet her surely terrified siblings. 

However, as the trio brushed by her, the breeze from their brisk pace wafted over her carrying Allison’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“Thanks a lot.” It was like her words were influenced by her power and they were injected into her, compelling her to withdraw and forget any purpose she had for living. 

That was what left her sitting in defeat on her bed, clutching the only thing she could think of that didn’t actively remind her that she wasn’t wanted. Her siblings’ feelings toward her became clearer and clearer everyday. It began as reluctant glances and apologetic smiles. Then, as Grace and Pogo inserted themselves into every area the children attempted to occupy, their purpose to prevent any and all types of social interaction, her family’s weak tries at maintaining a relationship with her soured. 

At night, she would listen for who got in trouble. Grace’s pleasant scolding echoed down the children’s wing as a warning to anyone who heard it to not try sneaking from room to room because their behavior would be reported to Reginald. And if it was brought to his attention, they would be sorry. Their tired eyes and heavy limbs made that obvious. The only punishment Reginald ever oppressed her with were his daily check-ins and the restriction of playing her violin. No wonder her siblings hated her. 

The gestures of pity soon turned into stares of resentment and blame. Allison’s most recent condemnation just solidified her resolution to act like she never existed. It was similar to before when she was the unacknowledged, mostly forgettable sister. However, now she didn’t even attempt to insert her presence. If they were in her walking path, she turned around and continued the other way. If she felt their eyes on her, she wouldn’t meet them. If they spoke to her, she retreated to her room and shut the door. She refused to give them a reason to hate her more. 

She sniffed as the tremble of her sadness lessened, bringing her breathing to a normal rate and the drawers in her dresser calmed their rattle. It still felt as if she couldn’t take a full breath. Something in her chest stopped her exhale about halfway through, like a rubber band being stretched too far, but the sadness was manageable again. Manageable for how long, though, she didn’t know. 

Sometimes it would catch her at the oddest of times; in the middle of an algebra lecture, walking passed Five’s bedroom door, and even while she shampooed her hair. These incidences always made it back to her father. She could only assume it was Grace or Pogo reporting these meltdowns, but she had her suspicions that Luther was involved as well. 

She cringed away from her thoughts. She didn’t want to believe any of her siblings were working against her, but if any of them would do it, it would be Luther. Ever since the day in the hallway outside their father’s office, her stomach twists with fear if he is anywhere near her. Sitting at the dining room table or even listening to his heavy footsteps on the way to the bathroom in the morning are enough to put her on the edge of vomiting.

Vanya shakily placed her violin in its case beside her bed as if tucking it in for the night. She wouldn’t dare attempt to play it, though she knew full well that it would make her feel better. In resistance to her father’s request, she took it to the attic a week before when her siblings and father were away on a mission. As soon as her bow met the strings, she knew it was a mistake. 

She only made it in about four measures of the violin sonata she played for Five’s tape recording, before the entire room exploded into dust and sheet music. Her emotions overwhelmed her without her awareness and released her power as easily as if she had complete mastery over them and she was dismissing the despair that plagued her. The experience was enough for her to bitterly agree with her father, banning herself from the only happiness she could rely on. 

She stood, using the few steps to the switch in the room to shake the painful memory of that realization, and turned the light off. She paused to admire the moon shining radiantly through the panes of her window. When she was locked up in the deprivation chamber, she would imagine that she was with Five in the apocalypse. She believed that it was better than where she was. At the moment, she thought she would take a world deprived of life over a world filled with people who despised her. 

She snapped the curtains shut, barring the memory of a boy who loved her from her mind. She didn’t have anymore room in her darkened heart to mourn the loss of him, too. 

~*~*~

When she woke, the memory of tears lingered in her eyes. They never fell past her eyelids, but remained just on the brink. Just to remind her that they could fall if she let them. She didn’t though. She was having the dream more and more often now. Just the same thing over and over. Walking down the hallway of the children’s wing and observing with horror as she stared into the eyes of her dead siblings. 

The feeling of helplessness weighed her down as it always did in the nightmare, but the fear of the dream was becoming less every time she woke up from it. It scared her not to be scared. She didn’t know how to stop the obvious process of desensitizing that was happening, but it shocked her enough not to dwell on it when it happened. The visits she took to the vault was enough to tuck it away into the crevices of her brain, not to be thought about unless reimagined in her dreams. 

She turned over, pulling the blanket up to her ears ignoring the growing light in the room. She knew she needed to get up, but it was getting harder and harder for her to shake the tiredness in her body. 

A soft knock and melodious voice carried through her door. The final wake up call implemented by Mom began working its way closer to her room. She heard her siblings scramble to get dressed and irritated grumbling being exchanged as they fought over the bathrooms. 

She noticed a change in Mother’s pattern. It was like she stuttered to a stop, unsure of how to continue her routine. Vanya knew it had to do with Klaus. He was probably missing again. 

There was a short conversation with Ben, the tone in his voice holding a certain weariness, and then she was at Vanya’s door. 

“Vanya, dear. It’s time to get up.” She opened the door and strode into the room as if there was an exciting event occurring. The plastic smile on her face even reflected the sentiment until she noticed Vanya had not made an attempt to get out of her bed yet. She would at least sit up when she came in the room. This morning felt different. 

“Are you feeling well? You are usually my early bird.” 

She sighed quiet enough to avoid Grace becoming more concerned but enough to push out some of the heaviness pressing her into the bed. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. 

“I’m alright. May I start my day with a desensitizing session? I’m not hungry for breakfast.” She wanted to erase the dread still lingering in her chest. 

Grace made a disapproving sound and chided, “I’ll make your breakfast and you can eat it during your morning lessons. A growing girl can’t skip a meal.” A smile spread across her pretty lips again as she dipped her fingers into the apron tied around her waist and pulled out the orange bottle. “I’ll have you take your medicine before we head down.” 

Vanya watched closely as she shook a single pill into her hand and before handing it to her daughter, snapped the tiny oval in half with her manicured fingernails and offered it. She still didn’t give her the full dose. 

“Thanks,” she breathed, peering up at her mother, waiting for her to process that she had been making a mistake for a month and force her to take the other half as well. But she never did. So Vanya took the original dose, and pushed down the urge to ask for a few more. All she wanted was to stop the stinging in her heart like she did when she overdosed. 

She had no memory of the few weeks she was under the influence, and sometimes she wished Grace would malfunction and insist that she take too much. She didn’t want to be aware of what happened around her. Not only did she want to be oblivious to her siblings, but also to her power. 

As much as she told herself she had it under control, she most certainly did not. When her feelings caught up to her, there was nothing tethering it in place. It was like the time she got to participate with her siblings in a birthday celebration where there were small animals. She remembered it like a petting zoo. She was very young and the rift between her family and herself wasn’t dug out yet. 

Diego had been holding a rabbit and passed it to Vanya. Before she had a hold of it, Diego let go and the rabbit frantically thrashed in her outstretched hands. She tried bringing it closer to her body to secure it, but it was already distressed enough that her tiny, inexperienced hands couldn’t calm it. It kicked, and dug its claws into her belly, trying to break free of her weak grip. Eventually the animal keeper rushed to her side and scooped it from its bottom, cradling its dangling feet. After bandaging her scratches, wiping her tears away, and explaining how to hold the creature properly, the attendant offered to help her hold the rabbit again. Vanya remembered being more upset at herself than the poor animal because she thought she had hurt it. But with avid reassurance that the bunny had just been scared, she held it again. 

When her hearing would amplify and hone in on a sound during a moment of weakness, she didn’t know what else to do but try to block it. She would cover her ears, often painfully squeezing the cartilage into the sides of her head, or she would eliminate the sound from her earshot, desperately running to another part of the house until she couldn’t hear it anymore. Neither of those options were very effective and usually just left her with sore ears and the deep fear of the next time she lost control. Would her dream become reality? Would she unleash the pressure in her chest like she did the day Five left? 

She needed someone to tell her how to control it. Otherwise, she would always be afraid. Maybe she wasn’t special enough to possess something like this. Maybe her father had been right to suppress it. 

Getting ready became a much more arduous task as her thoughts saturated her body, weighing down on her, as if she would sink into the floor. She didn’t even bother brushing her hair before meeting Grace at the staircase. 

She vaguely heard her name being called behind her as she was ushered down the steps with the prospect of a suffocatingly quiet prison waiting for her. At least she didn’t have to worry about her power or face her siblings there. 

~*~*~

She left the vault far earlier than she had wished which gave her an anxious shiver just beneath her skin. It was like an extra layer of itchy, irritating muscle that covered her body like a cocoon. It was constantly writhing and reminding her of all the things she had attempted to strap down while being isolated. They were wiggling free much faster than ever before. 

Grace had assigned her the work to be completed for the day, leaving her alone in her private classroom while she charged. With the added advising of her siblings, she couldn’t recuperate in her gallery at night and would use the time she would originally be attending to Vanya’s lessons to do it. This left Vanya by herself for the majority of the day, expected to complete her work independently. 

Vanya was normally very capable of this expectation, but found the solitude to be too distracting. It was much easier for her mind to resort to thoughts that were unrelated to her academic work. This was also when she found herself struggling with her power the most. 

At the moment, she was staring very intently at a passage from “Don Quixote,” attempting to translate it. She was straining so hard, that the pressure behind her eyes were enough to muffle the electric buzz from the light fixture in the room. 

Finally, she gasped, taking a heaving breath and pushing her chair away from the desk. The scrape of the chair interrupted the noise and she was given a slight respite. Her palms were pressed into the surface of her desk as she stared down at them, sweat and tears dripped onto the yellowing pages of the novel. As a passing thought, she realized that she hadn’t read a book for pleasure since Five left. 

Somehow that lowered her heart even further into its pit of self loathing; yet another thing in her life she loved, and was losing. The static returned to her ears with a renewed vigor. It filled her head and built an alarming amount of pressure in her chest. The hand holding it in place trembled under its energy. 

Without a second thought, she strode out the door and blindly jogged away from her classroom. Her only motivation was to clear her head of her power’s supply. She could feel her heart’s pounding even through the vibrations of the light still reaching her eardrums even as she cut across the landing into the children’s wing. 

Her feet pushed her into a sprint, the urgency of her current objective elevating her panic as the hum continued to irritate her. She didn’t realize that pressing her hands into both sides of her head blocked her peripherals until she came in contact with someone emerging from one of the bedroom doorways.

Their bodies collided and tangled as they rolled a fair amount down the hallway. Her head bounced against the floor, momentarily dazing her. The whirring of the light was finally interrupted as it was replaced with the jarring ring of hitting her head. 

Someone took her shoulders and helped her sit up. She blinked and for a heartbreaking moment, Five stared back at her, laughing about her career as a football player. But she blinked again, refocusing until Klaus’s concern pierced her. 

“Vanya! Are you okay?” He breathed, “Is someone chasing you?” He looked over his shoulder behind them. Back toward her private classroom with the surging light. 

She pushed herself backward, sliding across the slick hardwood floor until her back reached the opposite wall. She clutched the front of her shirt, suddenly unable to exhale the breath that built up there as she gasped. The squeezing in her chest threatened to burst, the distraction not being enough to deflate its energy. 

“Vanya, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Klaus crawled toward her, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he reached out to her. The lines of muscle in his arm flashed into a tattered mess, blood streaming down to soak his shirt. 

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and shouted, “I’m fine!” She winced at the loudness of her own voice, and scrambled to her feet. She sprinted down the remaining length of the hallway, jumping down the few steps at the end in one leap. She skidded around the corner, holding the corner to pivot herself into the closet just on the other side. 

She snapped the door shut just in time to hear Klaus stumble down the hall after her. She pushed her sweaty hair away from her face, pulling some strands too hard and ripping them from her scalp. The pain localized her attention, holding the fear of what almost happened to Klaus in those areas rather than the hot pool filling her insides. 

It felt just like it did the first time. Tears streamed down her burning cheeks, her fingers still tangled up in her hair. Klaus’s insistent shouts faded to the other side of the house. Possibly down a floor. 

She couldn’t do this anymore. It was getting more and more unbearable to keep her feelings bottled up and for her to suppress her powers on her own. She bit her lip to stifle a sob as she resolved to speak to her father about Grace’s mistake with her dosage. He was gone on a business venture for another day, so she would just need to take as many precautions as she could until then. 

She tugged at the strands in her hands again as she cringed away from the rattling of the door, her power leaking through her resilience. Reginald was right to smother her power. She was too dangerous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought a longer chapter would be appropriate to make up for my absence. No surprise there. Blah, blah, work is hard, blah, no time to write, blah, blah, I'm sorry. 
> 
> This is actually only the first half of what I had planned for this part. So the next chapter will be Vanya again, I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone. I just got carried away and didn't get to the important part of this chapter. I'm not going to say when I hope to have it up, because I don't want to let anyone down. I'll do my best to have it up soon. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and left a comment. Every time I'm too tired to write and I feel discouraged, I read your kind words and get re-motivated. It seriously helps me so much. I want to share the long, detailed story I have in my head RIGHT NOW, but I unfortunately don't work like that. Thank you for being patient and supportive! There aren't enough words to express my gratitude. 
> 
> Unrelated sidenote: If you know someone who is a teacher, either doing their job in-person or online, do me a favor and buy them a coffee. Or a caffeine shot. Or anything that will make them feel appreciated and energized. Being a teacher right now is very challenging. If you enjoy this story, find someone who teaches and do this for them. They need it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> *pets cat and laughs maniacally*


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